I like the beginnings. These always entail two ways and plenty of stealth-like universes... and nothing compares to an out-and-out blending of senses.

I trust the weather, it must have been the same when I was begotten... then
my past began. Therefore, as long as I have feelings, I trust the weather.

My prayers seemed to be so miraculous when I was nine... the odd thing is that I cannot remember any of my class mate's name or face of that time, except a girl's, yet I have older memories.

She's a dancer I fail to catch, over and over.

I read a little, I share a bit, and sometimes I feel mean and heavy, as though I've just swallowed up a dozen of blind grenades... it's just another time I try to equally weight myself on the other side of a tear.